Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. . Others pulled hats over their noses, cowered in their seats, and feigned that all was right with the world. "Something worse, I fear," Wood replied. . You’ll end there one day, mark my words.
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